


Galactica

by SeeTheVision



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Androids, Canon-Typical Violence, Cyborgs, Eventual Romance, Found Family, Hacking, Hallucinations, Heist, M/M, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, Revolution, Royalty, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Space Battles, Space Pirates, sometimes family is just a ragtag gang of misfits on a spaceship, the lunar chronicles au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeTheVision/pseuds/SeeTheVision
Summary: A runaway prince. A rogue cyborg. A bioengineered soldier. A farm boy with a score to settle. A charming thief. An escaped prisoner. A boy who can't trust his own mind. An android with stars in his eyes.The fate of the galaxy rests with them.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Lee Jeno/Zhong Chen Le, Na Jaemin/Park Jisung
Comments: 89
Kudos: 113





	1. Renjun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a note to start: a lot of things in this fic, most notably the characters, are inspired by The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer(minus most of the fairytale references), but you don't need to have read that to understand this story. star wars, star trek, and various other scifi universes are mixed in as well.  
> also, none of the ships are side ships. some will happen sooner than others, but i consider them all to be equally important!

INCOMING COMMUNICATION:

ALL-FREQUENCY DISTRESS SIGNAL

Renjun frowned at the green text trekking across the bottom of his vision. “Chenle? Are you getting this?”

“Yep,” confirmed Chenle, bringing the message up on the main screen of the bridge. His fingers danced across the controls with programmed grace, conducting a scan of the surrounding area.

“What is it? Cops? A trap?” demanded Jaemin, peering at the left display screen as a small pod ship came into view.

“Doesn’t look like it,” said Chenle, bringing the ship into clearer focus. “It’s marked with the Imperial crest but the scans only show one life form aboard. Looks like it’s in pretty bad shape, too.”

“Well, if it’s not a threat, ignore it,” said Jaemin impatiently. “The jump to hyperspace—”

“Jaemin,” snapped Renjun, blinking away his retina display, “there is a _life form_ on that ship. The hull probably won’t survive entrance to any atmosphere, and the chances of another friendly ship picking it up before the life support fails are infinitesimal.”

“Oh, so we’re a friendly ship now?” scoffed Jaemin.

“Jaemin,” Renjun tried again, resisting the urge to shout. “ _Captain.”_

Though he tried to hide it, the corner of Jaemin’s mouth twitched at the title of respect, so rarely offered. “Fine. Lock on tractor beams, but if it turns out to be a bomb—”

“You can tell me ‘I told you so’ in the afterlife,” said Renjun. “Chenle?”

“Locked on. Opening pod ship dock airlock.”

“Don’t make the jump to hyperspace until I give you the all-clear,” said Renjun, already making his way out of the bridge. “Whoever’s inside that pod might need medical attention.”

“Last I checked, I was the one giving the orders around here,” Jaemin called after him.

Renjun didn’t bother with a response. Jaemin could call himself ‘Captain’ all he liked; it wouldn’t change the fact that without Renjun, he’d still be rotting in a cell on Earth.

COMM RECEIVED FROM CHENLE:

AIRLOCK SECURED. LIFE SIGNALS STEADY.

LIKELY UNCONSCIOUS, BUT BE CAREFUL.

Renjun sent back a simple affirmative, then dismissed the retina display. The familiar _thud, clang, thud_ of his bare feet against the metal grate of the floor served to ground him, comforting in its familiarity. Jaemin often complained that the corridors were too cold, but Renjun’s internal temperature regulators kept him comfortable in most habitable climates. He lifted his left hand, the plating glinting in the dull bluish light, and opened the tip of his pointer finger. If the life form really was unconscious, he wouldn’t need the tranquilizer darts loaded in his palm compartment, but it never hurt to be cautious.

The pod ship looked even worse up close, standing out starkly against the two pristine pods already docked. Renjun’s retina scanner picked up the dents and smoking craters of the hull, charred wiring poking through in some places. Barely visible beneath the burn marks, the insignia of the Interstellar Empire lurked, haunting Renjun no matter how far he ran.

“What in the galaxy happened to you,” he murmured, running his hands—first flesh, then steel—over the fused plating of the exit hatch. Reluctantly disengaging the gun attachment, Renjun dug the fingers of his left hand into the edges of the hatch and yanked, dialing back his audio receptors at the screech of metal on metal. As the hatch groaned open, Renjun pointed his finger into the gap, prepared to shoot.

The single occupant of the pod didn’t so much as flinch. In the power-saving lights of the pod bay, all Renjun could see was a mess of pale hair and a smear of red.

OUTGOING COMM TO CHENLE

UNCONSCIOUS AND INJURED. I’M TAKING THEM TO MED BAY.

As gently as he could manage, Renjun pulled the inert form from the wreckage, looping a limp arm around his shoulders. The stranger groaned, struggling feebly.

“It’s alright,” Renjun assured, relieved to see some sign of life. “I’m going to help you."

The med bay was, unfortunately, a section of the ship that Renjun was well acquainted with. In his months working with Jaemin, they’d run into more tight scrapes than he cared to remember. 

“Lights on,” he said, depositing the body onto an examination table. "Begin full-body injury scan." 

The lights flickered on, casting the unconscious boy's face into sharp relief, and Renjun froze.

Even with the blood and grime streaking the pale skin, Renjun didn't need his net database to inform him of this boy's identity. He ignored the line of green text marching like soldiers in formation across his vision.

HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS PRINCE LEE MINHYUNG OF THE INTERSTELLAR EMPIRE.

Renjun cut off the net link.

"Maybe Jaemin was right this time," he mumbled, shaking himself out of his daze and fumbling for the bandages. "He may be more trouble than he's worth."

" _Scan complete,"_ beeped the control panel by the head of the examination table. _"Minor concussion. Laceration on forehead. Recommended treatment: disinfect wound, apply medicinal salve, apply bandaging. Bed rest. Patient should avoid sudden movements."_

"Yes, thank you," said Renjun, already pressing a damp cloth to the cut on the prince's forehead. The blood had begun to dry, matting his hair against his skin, coloring the light strands burgundy.

The scanner beeped again. " _Partially healed incision on left wrist. No immediate treatment required."_

Renjun paused, glancing down at the prince's arm. Sure enough, an inflamed red mark marred his wrist, scabbed over but obviously recent. His eyes flicked to his own wrist, where less than an inch from where skin met metal, a pale white scar lingered from when he'd removed his own ID chip.

The intercom on the wall crackled to life. "Are you still in there?" demanded Jaemin. "If he's not dead, can we jump to hyperspace now?"

"No," snapped Renjun. "He's still unconscious, and you know how brain injuries react to that kind of speed."

Even without seeing his face, Renjun could picture Jaemin's wince. During their last run-in with interstellar law enforcement, Jaemin hit his head in the scuffle. They'd managed to escape by making the jump to hyperspace, but it had left Jaemin seeing stars for weeks.

"Besides," Renjun continued, "this isn't just some guy who happened to be floating around out here."

"What do you mean?"

"It's Prince Minhyung." Renjun muted his audio interface before Jaemin could start shouting.

The prince was young, barely older than Renjun according to his net biography. The netscreens always made him seem so much more mature, strong and stately, but the boy resting on the table was just that—a boy. Completely vulnerable under Renjun's touch.

Part of Renjun, maybe a large part, wanted to eject the stiletto knife from his ring finger and slit the prince's throat. The pulse beating this boy's chest might be the closest thing Renjun could get to the heart of the Empire itself, and he wanted nothing more than to see the mighty brought to their knees.

But something held him back. Maybe it was simply curiosity. What was the prince doing in a damaged pod in a sector so distant from the capital? What secrets of the Empire might he know?

Or maybe Renjun wanted to prove that, despite the large percentage of synthetic parts making up his body, he still had some humanity left in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic follows basic space opera logic, which means that if you have questions about why all the characters can speak the same language, why so many life forms look more or less human, how interstellar/hyperspace travel works, etc, the answer is: because i said so <3
> 
> chapters will be pretty short as characters are introduced but hopefully that will mean more frequent updates!  
> 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/see_thevision)  
> [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/riahsvision/)  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/see_thevision)


	2. Mark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i should be able to update at least once a week for a while(which is wild if youre familiar with my usual updating habits lmao)

Mark's consciousness returned in stages. He slowly became aware of the pounding ache in his head. His body was lying on something firm and papery, his limbs heavy. He tried to open his eyes, but the pain in his head flared at the brightness.

Where was he? What had happened?

His ship. He'd left the capital in his ship, he was sure of that much. He had removed his ID chip and fled. Voices were arguing somewhere nearby, making it hard to recall. It made his head throb, but Mark forced himself to listen to their words.

"Well then, what in the name of all the stars do you suggest we _do_ with him? I'm not running a taxi service for Imperial royalty. In case you haven't noticed, we happen to be _on the run_ from the government."

"I know that, Jaemin, but we should at least talk to him before we decide what to—wait. I think he's waking up."

A shadow passed above him, and Mark’s eyes managed to focus on the face of the person leaning over him. It seemed to be a boy, humanoid as far as he could see, with delicate features and light brown hair, glowing golden around the edges from the light behind him. His dark eyes surveyed him with an intensity that made Mark feel as though this boy could see right through to his bones.

“Your highness,” said the boy, voice carefully neutral, “you’re awake.”

“Where am I? Who are you?”

“We’re asking the questions here,” snapped the other voice, and Mark’s head whirled around, sending dark spots dancing across his vision.

“Try not to move too quickly,” said the first boy, pushing Mark back against what he now realized was a medical cot as he tried to sit up. “You’ve got a concussion. And you,” he turned to address the other person, “lay off the intimidation routine. You’re about as scary as a baby moonrat.”

The second person stepped into Mark’s field of vision with a scowl, arms crossed over his chest. Taller than the other, with a sharp jaw and jacket made of some sort of tanned animal hide, he looked plenty intimidating. Then again, the first boy didn’t seem like the type to scare easily.

“Here.” A cup of water was shoved into his hand, followed by two white tablets. “Take these, it’ll dull the pain and help your damaged brain cells start to repair themselves.”

Taking unidentified medication from two strangers was probably not the best move, but Mark figured that if these two wanted to kill him, they could have done so when he was asleep. Besides, poison might be preferable to the pain in his head, at this point. He swallowed the pills.

“I seem to be at a disadvantage,” said Mark, hoarsely, setting the cup aside. “You know who I am, but you have yet to introduce yourselves to me.”

“Do you always talk like that?” said the less-welcoming of the two, wrinkling his nose. “Yeesh, no wonder nobody likes the royal family.”

The first boy rolled his eyes. “My name is Renjun, this is Jaemin. Now that we’ve been introduced, would you mind telling us what you were doing so far from the capital, all alone in a beat-up pod ship?”

“Hey,” a perky voice spoke over the intercom, making Mark jump and then clutch at his aching head, “can’t you guys have this conversation on the bridge? I want to see if the prince is as handsome in real life as he looks on the netscreens.”

The shorter boy—Renjun—pursed his lips. “Can you stand?” he asked Mark, holding out a hand to him.

“I think so—” Mark froze as his fingers encountered, not flesh as he expected, but cold metal. Renjun’s left hand was cybernetic.

“Well?” snapped Renjun, his eyes as hard and cold as his fingers. “Are you coming?”

“I— yes.” Ignoring the chill, Mark gripped the steel fingers and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. He was a bit dizzy, but with Renjun’s support he made it out into the corridor.

As the pain in his head slowly dulled to a low throb, Mark made an effort to take stock of his surroundings. The steel-paneled corridor was lit only by two strips of power-saving lights running along the bottoms of the walls. It was nothing like the lavish ships he was accustomed to, but it seemed well cared for. They passed a few doorways and branching passages, none well-lit enough for Mark to get a good look, before reaching what Mark assumed to be the bridge. The front of the room was made up of three panels displaying the vast reaches of space, although Mark couldn’t tell whether they were windows or hologram screens.

Seated in one of the cushioned chairs at the main console was a boy with vibrant orange hair who whirled around as soon as they entered the room. “Oh my stars,” he gasped, violet eyes wide as he placed his hands over his chest as though to keep his heart inside, “he’s even more handsome in person.”

“Please save the gushing until after we’ve questioned him,” snapped Jaemin, and the boy sank back into his chair with a pout, returning his attention to the ship’s controls. Jaemin turned to Mark with an almost absurd air of authority and pointed to a vacant seat. “Sit. Now tell me one good reason why I shouldn’t just toss you out an airlock right now.”

Mark glanced nervously at Renjun as he took a seat, but was met with detached curiosity. “Um. Because I’m the prince?”

“Nice try,” snorted Jaemin, “but we aren’t exactly fans of the Interstellar Empire.”

“Neither am I,” Mark nearly yelped, stomach flipping with sudden hope. “My mother tried to have me killed, that’s why I was stranded in a pod ship. My star cruiser was destroyed. I barely escaped—”

“Woah, woah, back up,” Renjun interrupted, hands spread in front of him. Mark’s eyes caught again on the gleam of his left hand. “Why did the Empress try to kill you?”

“Because… I ran away,” mumbled Mark, knotting his hands in his lap. It sounded laughably childish. “I couldn’t take it anymore—the plots, the politics, the mind games. I didn’t think anyone would care much, since I’m just the second son, not in line for the throne.”

Renjun studied him for a few moments before declaring, “He’s telling the truth.”

“So what I’m hearing,” said Jaemin, unimpressed, “is that by harboring you, we could be bringing the wrath of the entire Empire raining down on our heads. Tossing him out the airlock is sounding better by the minute.”

 _“Jaemin,”_ growled Renjun, “we are not killing him.”

“You’re right,” Jaemin leaned back in his seat, a wicked grin creeping across his face. “He’s much too valuable for that. How much do you think we could get in ransom for him?”

Mark felt the blood drain from his face. If he was handed back over to his mother… he didn’t even want to think about what might happen. A quick death, at best.

“No,” Renjun insisted. “Think about all the things he must know, Captain.”

Jaemin’s eyebrows ticked up, and Mark got the feeling that word carried more weight than a simple title.

“Government secrets,” Renjun coaxed. “Military storehouse locations. Just think how much an Imperial-grade blaster would fetch on the black market.”

“You’re suggesting he join the crew?”

“Yes.” Renjun turned to look at Mark, the hint of a smile on his lips. “If he wants to, that is.”

“I’m not sure exactly what you mean,” said Mark, daring to feel a bit of relief, “but if it’s the alternative to being thrown out the airlock, I accept.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now we've met mark. what do you think of him so far? if you have any thoughts or predictions, let me know in the comments! and as always, feel free to come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/see_thevision), [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/riahsvision/), or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/see_thevision)


	3. Jaemin

Jaemin lived his life by one simple motto: take things as they come. Renjun often argued that this was just an excuse to avoid thinking ahead, but Jaemin maintained that he had gotten out of enough scrapes by thinking on his feet to make up for the times things hadn’t gone his way. At this point, Renjun usually rolled his eyes and turned his audio interface volume to zero.

At any rate, adding a runaway prince to his crew seemed like it might be fun.

“Fine,” Jaemin decided, pushing aside his misgivings about the trustworthiness of Imperial royalty. “But first, let’s make one thing very clear, _your highness_ .” He ignored Renjun’s pronounced sigh as he drew himself to his full height, pleased to note that the prince had to look up slightly to meet his eyes. “I know you’re probably used to giving the orders, but I am captain of this ship. _My_ word is law, and if you’ve got a problem with that, the airlock offer is still on the table.”

The prince’s eyes widened slightly. “No complaints here. But please, don’t call me ‘your highness.’”

“Minhyung, then?” smirked Renjun.

“Just Mark is fine.”

“Okay then, Mark,” agreed Jaemin, trying to bring the conversation back to it’s rightful topic: him. “You can call me Captain, or Captain Jaemin, or Captain Na Jaemin if you want to be formal about it.” He gestured toward Renjun. “Renjun is first officer, technically, though he’s mostly just the mechanic.”

Renjun scowled. “Didn’t hear you saying that last time I saved your ass,” he grumbled.

Jaemin ignored him, gesturing to the main console. “And this is Chenle, our… emotional support android.”

Chenle snorted, a sound loaded with more derision than a boy made of silicon and wires should be able to convey. “How about, ‘pilot, strategist, sharpshooter, and the only only one on this blasted ship with any fashion sense’?”

“Hey,” Jaemin protested, glancing down at his well-worn leather jacket. It was old fashioned, sure, but it had a certain vintage charm that his brother had always been partial to.

“I’ll take over the controls, Chenle,” Renjun cut in before the brewing argument could continue. “Will you take Mark to one of the empty crew cabins and make sure he’s comfortable?”

“Will do,” chirped Chenle, looking at the prince with starry purple eyes as he led him from the room with a spring in his step.

“Well,” sighed Renjun as he sank into the seat at the helm, “today turned out to be pretty eventful.” He gave Jaemin a wry smile, and Jaemin grinned as he took his place in the captain’s chair. As aggravating as Renjun could be, Jaemin had to admit he wouldn’t have gotten far without him. At least, he could admit it to himself. Renjun would never let him live it down if he said it out loud.

He’d been in his prison cell on Earth, lying on his cot and staring at nothing, when a boy with a metal hand and leg had fallen through one of the blank white ceiling panels.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Jaemin had said, glossing over his brief moment of shock. “Do you make it a habit to come through the ceiling rather than the door?”

The cyborg had glared at him, silent.

Standing and straightening his prison-issued jumpsuit, Jaemin offered his most disarming grin. “You seem to be escaping. Might I offer my services as an accomplice? I happen to be a criminal mastermind.”

“If you’re a mastermind,” the cyborg had said, and Jaemin was surprised at the lack of any robotic tamber to his voice, “why did you get caught?”

Jaemin winced. “That was a fluke. I was on my way back from Alpha Centauri with a shipment of adamantine and a few limited-edition companion droids, and just when I was docking my cargo ship—”

“Wait. You have a ship?”

“Sure do.” Jaemin’s chest puffed out in pride. “She’s a beauty, too. Left her in a shipyard off the coast of Africa before the Empire nabbed me and tossed me in here.”

The cyborg considered him for a moment. “What’s your name?” he finally asked.

“Captain Na Jaemin, at your service."

“If I get us out of this prison, do you think you can get us off this planet?”

Jaemin grinned, holding out his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Now, several months later, Jaemin considered that one of the best deals he’d ever made. He’d escaped from prison, left the Sol system far behind, and got himself a capable crewmember in the process.

“We’ll have to travel sub-light until the pri– Mark’s injury is stable enough to jump to hyperspace without causing additional damage,” Renjun said.

“How long will that take?”

Renjun’s eyes unfocussed slightly, a look that Jaemin recognized as him accessing his netlink—probably looking up treatment options for concussions. “With the medication we gave him, at least a day. Good thing we don’t have anywhere to be in a hurry.”

“How about we leave the ship on autocontrol in loose orbit around a moon or something?” Jaemin suggested. “I want a rematch of Royals, you cheater.”

“For the last time, I wasn’t cheating! Just because I’m better than you—”

“Save it for the game,” Jaemin smirked, tugging a slightly tattered deck of cards from an inside pocket of his jacket and shuffling them with a flourish. “Plot the course and meet me in the cargo bay.”

“Whatever,” Renjun huffed, but Jaemin detected an undercurrent of amusement beneath his annoyance. He smiled to himself on his way out of the bridge, heading for the cargo bay and the makeshift card table they’d made by shoving together empty storage bins.

Along with his old leather jacket, that prickly cyborg was Jaemin’s last tie to his home planet. Renjun wasn’t really Earthen, of course. As far as Jaemin could tell from the little he knew about Renjun's home world, Renjun’s race first made interplanetary contact around the same time Jaemin’s ancestors decided to see what would happen if they banged two rocks together. But despite the metal extremities and vaguely mysterious past, Jaemin was willing to accept anyone who played good old-fashioned Earthen card games with him as a kindred spirit.

“Captain!” Chenle appeared around the corner from the crew quarters with his usual abundance of enthusiasm.

“Chenle! How is our royal guest settling in?”

“He’s asleep now,” Chenle sighed, expression dreamy. “I gave him some more painkillers from medbay and some extra clothes to change into.” If he’d had blood, Jaemin suspected Chenle would have blushed at this. “He’s so… _wow,_ Captain.”

Jaemin laughed, clapping Chenle on the shoulder. “A lovesick android, who would have imagined. I don’t even think you were this smitten when you met _me.”_

“Untrue,” Chenle argued, giggling as well. Jaemin isn’t sure what mad scientist programmed Chenle’s personality chip, with all its quirks, but whoever it was really went all out on the laugh. “You almost fried my wiring.”

Jaemin winked, and Chenle shoved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> our first good look at captain na jaemin. there's much more to him, but how do you like him so far? let me know in the comments!
> 
> also check out this [renjun concept art](https://twitter.com/see_thevision/status/1355285062124793857) i drew instead of doing my homework


	4. Mark

By the time Mark awoke, the pain in his head had dulled to a soft hum, like his skull had been stuffed with cotton. He swung his legs over the side of his bunk and stood, testing his balance. When he was relatively sure he wouldn’t tip over, he dared to take a step.

“Lights on?” he tried, and the ceiling panels brightened, illuminating his quarters.

Mark had been too tired and woozy to pay much attention when Chenle first led him here, but now he took a moment to survey his surroundings. It was small, with only the bunk, a few drawers and cupboards set into the metal walls, and a small netscreen affixed next to the door. A porthole on the adjacent wall looked out into space, the curved edge of a barren, cratered surface blocking the view of the stars.

“Screen on.”

The screen flickered to life, showing a floorplan of a spaceship—presumably the one he was now on. A _Class 119 Fantasm Cargo Transport_ according to the label on the bottom of the screen.

“Computer, what is this ship’s current relative position?”

A diagram of a star system materialized on the map, a few orbiting planets and a green dot indicating the Fantasm’s location. “ _T_ _his ship is currently orbiting at a distance of 36,000 kilometers from the surface of the fifth moon of the planet Scraelar 6,”_ the screen droned in a monotone, robotic voice, _“the outermost planet of the Scraelar system.”_

Scrae. Good, that was lightyears from the capital at Angoria. Hopefully, the destruction of his ship would be enough to convince the Imperial military of his death. Hopefully, they wouldn’t notice that the podship was missing from the wreckage. Hopefully, Mark would be free to crawl away to the furthest corner of the galaxy.

Not that he’d be able to do that anyway. The details of his conversation with Jaemin were hazy—a side effect of the concussion, probably—but Mark seemed to recall agreeing to join a pirate crew.

“Well,” Mark mumbled, barely audible even to himself over the hiss of the door as he stepped out into the hallway, “I did want a change of pace.”

The ship’s computer helpfully directed Mark toward the cargo bay, where, it told him, he would find the other crew members. The cargo ship was much larger than the cruisers Mark was used to, and he found himself impressed as he traversed the corridors. It seemed too large for the three-person crew, but he figured they needed the extra space for whatever stolen goods they transported.

The door to the cargo bay swished open as he approached, and Chenle immediately bounced to his feet to greet him. “Mark, you’re awake! How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Mark assured him, glancing around. Several plastic and metal storage containers lined the far wall, but about half of the cargo bay was empty at the moment. Three smaller crates had been positioned around a makeshift table topped with piles of multicolored disks and several dozen small, rectangular pieces of paper. Jaemin and Renjun, still seated, each clutched a few papers fanned in their hands. “What are you doing?”

“Winning,” smirked Renjun, eyeing the pile of disks on the table in front of him, which was significantly larger than the pile in front of Jaemin.

“He’s _cheating_ is what he’s doing,” huffed Jaemin before turning to Mark with an almost predatory grin. “Hey Mark, lovely to see you up and about. Chenle, pull him up a seat. Have you ever played poker?”

“Um… no?” Mark admitted, tentatively sitting on the crate Chenle offered him.

“Well, you’ll just have to learn,” Jaemin declared, ignoring Renjun’s protests as he began to gather the papers into a neat pile. “We need at least three people to play, but Renjun’s the worst. No bluffs get past him.”

Mark looked questioningly at Renjun, hoping for some clarification, but all Renjun said was, “I have a lie detector in my head.”

“So,” Mark said, not quite sure what was going on, “it’s a game about lying?”

“Sort of,” laughed Jaemin, beginning to place the odd papers in front of himself, Mark, and Chenle one by one. Renjun huffed and crossed his arms at being left out. “It’s an old Earthen game. I’ll explain the rules, don’t worry.” He shot Mark a roguish grin and momentarily closed one of his eyes. This time, Mark looked to Chenle for an explanation.

“Old Earthen courting display,” Chenle told him, imitating the single-eye blink. “It’s called winking.”

“Please excuse my colleague,” drawled Renjun, flipping one of the plastic disks across his metal knuckles. “He’s woefully under-evolved. Now that he doesn’t think he needs to fight you for pack dominance, he’ll try to seduce you instead.”

Jaemin pouted. “Colleague? I thought I was more to you than that.”

“ _That’s_ the part you’re taking offense to?” snickered Chenle, and Mark had to remind himself that this boy was an android. He’d heard of companion droids—androids built to resemble organic life forms—before, but he never expected to meet one quite so lifelike. “Whatever, just explain the rules to Mark so we can play."

By the time Mark gingerly picked up his small pile of papers—cards, Jaemin called them—he was only slightly less confused. Before Jaemin could take his first turn, however, the red emergency lights lining the ceiling began to flash, an alarm blaring through the cargo bay. The netscreen on the wall lit up, showing an approaching ship, sleek black with a familiar insignia emblazoned on the side.

Renjun shot to his feet, sending cards flying. “We have to get to the bridge, _now.”_

Mark struggled to keep up in the mad dash for the bridge. By the time he arrived, Chenle was already seated at the main console, fingers flying over the controls. 

“Shields up,” barked Jaemin, and for the first time, Mark thought he truly sounded like the captain of a ship. “Ready the blasters just in case.”

“What do they want?” demanded Renjun, examining the image of the Imperial ship on the screen. “We aren’t doing anything suspicious, they have no reason to approach us.”

“About that,” said Chenle, his voice less than cheerful for the first time since Mark came aboard, “they’ve sent us a video comm.”

“On screen,” instructed Jaemin, and the view of space in the side panel was replaced by a head and shoulders in the distinctive uniform of the Imperial military: thick black body armor, a simple helmet, and a mask obscuring the bottom half of their face, leaving only their eyes visible.

“Prince Lee Minhyung is aboard your vessel,” the soldier said with no preamble, the mask distorting their voice into a humming drone. “Her Majesty the Empress wishes for his return to the capital. We are authorized to use lethal force if necessary. Lower your shields and prepare to be boarded.”

The message ended, leaving the bridge in eerie silence for a few seconds before Jaemin whirled to face Mark. “How did they know where to find you?”

“I- I don’t know.” Mark’s thoughts scrambled. “I removed my ID chip before I left—maybe there was a tracker in my pod?”

Jaemin cursed, thumping his fist against his forehead. “Well, normally I’d be all for letting the Empire take you off our hands—”

“ _Jaemin,”_ Renjun warned.

“—but we’ve got a cargo bay full of stolen goods, so today isn’t a good day to be boarded by Imperial troopers.” He set his jaw. “Chenle, we’re going to run. I don’t care if little Princie’s brain can handle hyperspace or not, just do whatever you think is best to get us out of here.”

“Prepare to jettison the podship,” added Renjun, taking his place at another console. “Hopefully that will slow down pursuit.” He turned to Mark. “You might want to strap yourself in.”

Mark threw himself into a seat next to Renjun’s and fumbled with the harness, mind reeling, not only at the impending threat of being captured by the Empire, but at the disappearance of the frail threads of friendship he’d thought he was forming with this crew. True, he’d been aboard less than a day, but it had felt for the first time in his life as if he might be able to belong somewhere.

He couldn’t blame his companions; if he was in their shoes, he probably would have turned him over to the Empire at the first opportunity. Their top priority was keeping themselves safe and free, and Mark couldn’t begrudge them that. He looked at Renjun but could find no comfort in his face. He was all hard edges and sharp focus, not sparing Mark a glance.

“Engaging impulse thrusters,” said Chenle, and the ship burst into motion, following their orbital path and then using the inertia of the moon’s gravity to slingshot the ship into space.

“Enemy in pursuit,” reported Renjun, hands flying over his own screens. “Opening podship airlock.”

“Did it work?” asked Jaemin, leaning over Renjun’s shoulder to peer at the display. 

“They had to swerve to avoid it, but it still hit their shield. They lost a few seconds, at most.”

“Better than nothing,” said Chenle. “Increasing speed.”

The ship lurched and Mark gasped, clutching the straps on his harness and feeling completely, utterly useless.

“They’re firing on us,” growled Renjun, his brows. “Shields are holding for now, but this ship isn’t equipped for full battle.”

Another blast, and Renjun cursed. “Shields down. This useless cargo ship has no rear blasters, so I can’t return fire unless we turn around.”

“Which would be bad,” added Chenle, swerving sharply in an attempt to evade the next blast.

“Nice, Chenle,” said Renjun. “But we can’t—”

The next attack came, and they were not so lucky.

“Renjun, damage report,” Jaemin demanded, clutching the back of the chair to avoid being thrown to the ground by the impact.

“Left thruster’s been hit,” Renjun answered. “Diverting power to the other three.”

“I can’t make lightspeed with a thruster down,” said Chenle, glancing at Jaemin. “The hyperdrive can’t take that kind of strain.”

Jaemin looked from screen to screen—the damaged thruster, the black ship gaining on them, the map of the star system. “There’s an asteroid field ahead.”

“Jaemin, are you insane?” Renjun swiveled his chair to face the captain. “We’ll be crushed to bits!”

“Wait,” Mark spoke up for the first time. “You want to fly straight into an asteroid field?”

“Well, do you have a better idea?” Jaemin snapped.

“This isn’t some sleek little star cruiser,” Renjun reminded him. “We don’t have that kind of maneuverability.”

“But Chenle’s the best pilot I’ve ever met,” Jaemin insisted. “What do you think, Lele? Can you do it?”

Chenle considered the expanse of asteroids looming closer and closer. “I’d say we have about a 70% chance of surviving.”

“I’ll take it,” said Jaemin, clapping Chenle on the shoulder. “Make sure your harnesses are secure, everyone. This is about to get bumpy.”

“Jaemin is probably right,” said Renjun grudgingly, and it took Mark a moment to realize he was speaking to him. “This is our best bet. Before I installed him in this body, Chenle’s personality chip was part of the auto-control system for this planet-hopping speedster—but that’s a story for another time.” He gave Mark a small smile. “Let’s hope we live long enough for me to tell it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while writing this chapter and trying to come up with a good name for the ship, i discovered that "rampion" is another name for the rapunzel plant... well played, marissa meyer


	5. Renjun

“See?” beamed Jaemin, craning his neck to grin around at his crew. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Mark let out a low groan, massaging his temples.

“Good job, Chenle,” sighed Renjun, forcing his tense muscles to relax. “Damage report?”

“In addition to the blasted left thruster, one of the magnetic stabilizers was knocked out of alignment, and we have sustained minor hull damage to the lower levels,” Chenle rattled off, examining his display screen. “Over a million asteroids in the field, and I only hit two of them! I’d say that’s pretty good.”

“As expected of our stellar pilot,” Jaemin agreed, and Chenle preened. “Any signs of pursuit?”

“Negative,” Chenle answered. “Looks like we lost them.”

“They’ll catch up soon enough,” Renjun reminded them. "With reinforcements, no doubt.”

“Thank you for the optimism, Captain Cheerful,” Jaemin grumbled.

Renjun merely shrugged, pulling up a diagram of the ship’s damage on his retina display. He didn’t like bringing the mood down, but at least one of them had to be sensible and the task nearly always fell to him. “We’ll need to land so I can make repairs before we can use the hyperdrive.” Even as he said it, Renjun was pulling up his netlink, searching for the nearest inhabited planet. 

SCRALL, THIRD PLANET IN THE SCRAELAR SYSTEM

EQUATORIAL RADIUS: 6483 KM

ATMOSPHERE IS COMPOSED MAINLY OF NITROGEN AND OXYGEN, BREATHABLE FOR MOST HUMANOID LIFE FORMS

THE SCRAELAR SYSTEM IS CURRENTLY UNDER THE CONTROL OF THE INTERSTELLAR EMPIRE

“Big surprise there,” Renjun muttered, pulling up a map of the planet on the main screen. “We’re going to Scrall. Chenle, please try to land us somewhere relatively uninhabited. I don’t want any locals reporting us, but we may need to find some supplies, so not the middle of nowhere either. I don’t want to spend hours in a podship just to pick up a new power converter."

"Noted." Chenle toggled a few switches, plotting a new course. "At our current speed capability of 1/115th of lightspeed, it will take us approximately 349 minutes to reach the atmosphere."

"Just enough time for a nap," yawned Jaemin, unfastening his harness now that their speed had stabilized. "Chenle, can you stay here until we reach Scrall, just in case?"

"Of course," grumbled Chenle. "Sitting alone on the bridge is my favorite pastime."

"Your sarcasm is coming along nicely," said Jaemin as he left the bridge. Mark watched him go, evidently confused but not daring to speak up.

"You must be hungry," Renjun observed, noticing the weariness on Mark's face. 

Mark's round eyes widened for a moment before he nodded sheepishly. Renjun bit back a chuckle; for a prince, he certainly wasn't very assertive. Perhaps he was still a bit dazed from his injury. 

"Come on," said Renjun beckoning to him. "The galley is this way." 

They passed through the cargo bay, Renjun not bothering to pick up the cards scattered across the floor, before entering the meager galley. It could have been a useful room if they bothered to keep anything more than basic rations on board. As it was, they docked whenever Jaemin or Renjun had a particular craving and lived off nutrition packs the rest of the time. The gleaming chrome countertops had remained untouched since Jaemin had first stolen the ship, as far as Renjun could tell.

"Here," said Renjun, tossing Mark a pouch of the odd gel-like paste and taking one for himself. "You're Algorian, right? Your dietary needs are pretty similar to mine and Earthens'."

Mark nodded, but a frown creased his brow as he tore open the corner of the nutrition pack. "You're not Earthen?"

His own pouch halfway to his lips, Renjun paused. "Huh?"

"You said my dietary needs are similar to yours _and_ Earthens'."

Renjun raised his eyebrows. Apparently, the prince was not quite so timidly wide-eyed after all. "You're right. I'm not Earthen."

"But you're—" his eyes flicked down to Renjun's left hand, then away. "Earth is the only planet I know of that performs cybernetic operations. It's taboo in most cultures."

"You don't say," said Renjun drily.

"Not that _I—_ I mean, it's just that—"

"Relax, your highness, before you burst a blood vessel," Renjun rolled his eyes, annoyed. He knew what most of the galaxy thought about his kind. He didn't need the reminder. "Yes, my operations were performed on Earth, and I lived there for several years afterward, but that's not where I'm from."

He wrapped his lips around the opening in his nutrition pack in what he hoped was a clear expression of _this topic is closed._

“Oh.” Mark cast his eyes about the galley as if hoping to find a handy conversation scrawled on the walls. “So… when do I start learning the ropes of this whole piracy thing?”

With a snort, Renjun crumpled his now-empty nutrition pack and tossed it into the waste chute, then boosted himself up to sit on the counter. “What, you’re that eager to start your life of crime?”

Mark shrugged, brow creasing in discomfort. He clearly wasn’t used to being made fun of, which made Renjun grin. “I don’t know, I guess I just don’t want to be caught off guard.”

“Well,” Renjun hummed thoughtfully, “you won’t have to worry about that for a while. We won’t be staging any robberies until the ship is capable of making the jump to hyperspace, and the repairs will take a day or two.”

“Alright,” said Mark, tentatively taking a seat on one of the chairs bolted to the counter. “I’ve been wondering—you said this ship isn’t equipped for full space combat, right?”

“Right,” Renjun confirmed. “I made some modifications so at least the blasters are capable of taking out a low-level shield in a few hits, but we aren’t going to be blowing up cruisers anytime soon.”

“But if you have so little firepower, how are you able to rob other ships?”

“Just like an Imperial prince,” Renjun smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Brute force isn’t the only way to win. You can’t solve every situation with a blaster. Strategy and trickery are effective weapons as well.”

Mark tilted his head, the pale light from the ceiling panels making his blonde hair look almost white. “That’s very inspirational, but how do you actually _do_ it?”

Renjun laughed, surprised at how much he was enjoying the conversation—enjoying Mark’s company. The soft-spoken prince was a nice change of pace from charismatic Jaemin and vivacious Chenle. “It depends on the situation—the kind of ship, the cargo, the location. If we’re intercepting anything small like a shuttle or pod, we simply use the tractor beam to pull them into our podship dock, remove anything valuable from the ship, disable the communications system so they can’t rat us out right away, then send them right back out into space.”

“That makes sense,” Mark nodded slowly. “What about larger ships?”

“It’s easiest if we’re able to get within transporter range without raising suspicion,” Renjun explained. “Most ships keep their shields down unless threatened since they’re such a drain on the power cell. With the shields down, we teleport Chenle directly into their ship, where he disables the hyperdrive and communications systems.”

“Wait,” frowned Mark, “teleporters don’t work on people.”

“They don’t work on _organic life forms,”_ Renjun corrected, “which Chenle isn’t. And technically they do work, the life form just doesn’t arrive at its destination alive. Anyway, once he’s disabled the systems, Chenle just slaps a teleport beacon on anything worth taking and we beam it directly into our cargo bay. By the time the ship reaches the nearest planet without their hyperdrive functioning, we’re lightyears away.”

“Are you giving away all our trade secrets?” Jaemin sauntered into the galley, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket.

“If he’s going to join our crew, he should at least know the basics,” said Renjun. “I thought you were taking a nap.”

“Got hungry,” Jaemin shrugged, ripping the corner of a nutrition pack with his teeth and grimacing at the bland taste. “What are the chances we can get some real food while we’re planetside?”

“Should be possible, as long as no one tries to arrest us,” replied Renjun, his net database feeding him information on the types of cuisine available on Scrall. “Most Scralli food is safe for Earthens, but steer clear of round purple berries. They’re apparently very popular, but your stomach lining would dissolve.”

“Noted.”

“How do you know so much about Scrall?” asked Mark. “Have you been there before?”

“Nope.” Renjun hopped off the counter, his metal foot clanging on the floor. “I have a computer with net access in my head.”

As he left the galley, he heard Jaemin say, “I’ve found it’s best not to question him. He gets a little defensive about the whole cyborg thing.”

Renjun stared down at his left hand, steel and titanium and wires. Hard. Cold. Lifeless. Jaemin could tease him all he liked, but he would never understand what it was like to be so alienated from his own body—the body that had been pieced together by doctors and scientists and programmers. If his people could see him now, they’d be disgusted. He could never go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look markren had an actual conversation, happy valentine's day


	6. Jaemin

A familiar swoop in the pit of Jaemin’s stomach pulled him from a dream in which Chenle had attached three new arms to his torso.

“It’s the newest trend,” dream-Chenle giggled as the robotic limbs played an endless round of rock-paper-scissors, and then Jaemin was blinking up at the ceiling of his cabin, feeling the shift as the Fantasm plunged through Scrall’s atmosphere, the artificial gravity of the ship fighting the natural pull of the planet.

“Jaemin, wake up,” Renjun’s voice blared over the intercom a moment later.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, taking his time to sit up and rub the sleep from his eyes. The captain’s cabin was the largest on the ship, with a broader bunk, a desk with built-in holograph display, and the far wall taken up almost entirely by a window peering out into the far reaches of space. Jaemin could just see the curve of Scrall’s blue and green surface as they descended, white banks of clouds swirling. The shapes of the landmasses were different, but the planet reminded Jaemin so forcefully of Earth, it was like a punch to the stomach.

He’d grown up in the Eastern Commonwealth—not that country boundaries meant much since the Empire took over—in the bustling heart of New Beijing alongside millions of other Earthens, androids, and cyborgs. Although his parents had never paid them much attention, Jaemin and his brother Jaehyun had a relatively happy childhood—much happier than the millions of Earthens who lived in poverty beneath the oppression of the Empire. Their family owned an android manufacturing company that kept a roof over their heads and food on their table, but even as a teenager, Jaemin had chafed against the strict rules enforced on the city. As he grew old enough to understand the extent of the Interstellar Empire’s control of Earth, he longed to be free from the boundaries and mandates dictating every aspect of his life. He wanted to go where he liked without being stopped by Imperial troopers demanding to scan his ID chip. He wanted to fly a ship of his own without registering a tracking ID for the Empire to monitor his position. He wanted to live without the possibility of conscription into the Imperial military hovering over his head like the blade of a guillotine, primed to drop when he least expected it. His school days consisted of sneaking out after the mandated curfew to the roof of his crowded apartment building to gaze at the pitch-black sky. The light pollution of New Beijing blotted out any stars, yet Jaemin knew they were there. One day, he promised himself, he would break free from the gravity field tethering him to this planet and see what lay beyond the velvety darkness. 

Jaehyun always smiled when Jaemin related these ambitions. “You’ve got enough stars in those eyes of yours to outshine the entire galaxy,” he would say.

In the end, Jaehyun—calm, reliable Jaehyun, who had already mastered his father’s trade and was preparing to take over from him one day—was the first to leave the planet.

It was a great honor, the woman who had come for him said, to serve in the Empress’s army. Their soldiers would become strong, stronger than they could ever be on their own. Jaehyun had simply nodded, calm and collected as always, but Jaemin could detect the too-fast flutter of his eyelashes as he blinked back tears. Trying to be strong for Jaemin, as he always had.

“It’ll be alright,” he said, squeezing him in a comforting hug as if Jaemin was the one being torn away from his life, his home, his family. After a moment, he slipped his arms from the sleeves of his jacket—a vintage style made of real leather, which Jaemin had always teased him for—and slung it around Jaemin's shoulders. "I know you think my fashion sense is too second-era, but take care of this for me."

Jaemin stood straighter, setting his jaw against the rush of emotions. He would not make Jaehyun witness his pain. No tears blurred his vision as Jaehyun was ushered into the waiting hover.

Six months of silence later, Jaemin awoke to a comm notification on his portscreen informing him that his brother was dead. That night, with his portscreen tucked into the pocket of Jaehyun's jacket and a bandage wrapped around the gash in his wrist where his ID chip had been, Jaemin folded his long limbs into a crate of surplus android parts scheduled for shipment. He left New Beijing enveloped in blackness as inky and complete as the starless sky above.

“Jaemin!” Renjun’s voice on the intercom wrenched him from the past. “Are you up? We’ll be landing soon.”

Dragging his fingers through his hair, Jaemin made his way to the bridge where Chenle, Renjun, and Mark were already gathered. The prince was strapped into the seat farthest from the viewing screens, looking as though his stomach was not appreciating the descent through the atmosphere.

The surface of Scrall loomed ahead, filling the screen. Blurred green and grey shapes resolved themselves into mountains, forests, and coastlines as Jaemin took his seat, accustomed to the routine turbulence but unwilling to test his balance against the landing procedures. "Nice of you to join us,” Renjun remarked, securing his harness. Jaemin noticed that he’d donned his battered combat boots and grease-stained gloves, effectively hiding his cyborg limbs.

“I thought you would benefit from my guidance,” Jaemin replied airily.

“We’ve already decided where to land,” said Chenle. “ETA four minutes.” He paused, and Jaemin could detect the whir of his internal fan spinning faster—the first sign that his electronic brain had picked up on something unexpected. A moment later, Jaemin sensed it too—the plummeting sensation in the pit of his stomach that was lasting longer than it should have.

“Uh,” Jaemin raised a finger, “correct me if I’m wrong, but shouldn’t the auto-magnetic stabilizers have kicked in by now?”

“One of them was knocked out of alignment in the asteroid field, remember?” snapped Chenle, his fingers flying frantically over the console. “The other one should have been enough to slow our descent but—maybe this area is so rural that they don’t even have a magnetic grid.”

“And we didn’t consider this possibility earlier?”

“Engage impulse thrusters,” Renjun instructed, toggling a few switches. “On the lowest level, they should be able to slow our descent without rocketing us back into space.”

“Weren’t the thrusters damaged by that military ship?” asked Mark, whose presence Jaemin had nearly forgotten, clutching at the straps of his harness.

“Only one,” said Renjun. “We’ll have to compensate for the lopsided—”

“Calculations complete,” said Chenle, adjusting the power output to the remaining thrusters. “Engaging.”

If Jaemin’s stomach had been plummeting before, it now seemed to have continued its descent to the planet’s surface while the rest of his body was yanked back into the sky.

“Descent slowing,” reported Chenle, the only one of them not left breathless by the change in velocity, “but with the thrusters engaged and no magnetic stabilizers, I don’t have the maneuverability for a controlled landing. We’ll just have to extend the landing gear and hope we don’t squash anyone.”

Mark made an unintelligible squeaking sound.

“This is the lifestyle you signed up for, Princie,” Jaemin informed him. “All in a day’s work.”

“Stars, I wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” Renjun grumbled. “You could at least  _ try  _ to avoid near-death situations.”

“Hey, it’s not like I asked to—” Jaemin’s retort was cut off by a bone-rattling impact as the landing gear made contact with the planet.

The screens turned fully transparent, data replaced with a view of a marshy field full of neat rows of green plants, not unlike photos of rice paddies that Jaemin had seen back on Earth. A modest structure was visible in the left panel—a house of some sort, a domed shape built up on a foundation above the muddy ground and painted soft blue. As he watched, a humanoid figure appeared at the entrance, clothed in a grey tunic belted at the waist and a simple hooded cloak, the red fabric vibrant against the green and brown landscape.

The figure also had the distinctive form of a blaster rifle clutched in its hands.

“You,” Jaemin pointed at Mark, “stay here. We don’t want anyone tipping off the police—or trying to assassinate you.”

Mark’s face, already ashen from the rocky landing, paled further. “Assassinate?”

“The citizens of the Empire aren’t as docile as you royals would like to believe,” Jaemin snorted. “I suspect there are many, many people in this galaxy who wouldn’t hesitate to kill you if given the chance. Now,” he turned to Chenle and Renjun, who had vacated their seats, “let’s go meet our host.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit of jaemin backstory before we meet the next character. who do you think it will be?


	7. Donghyuck

For a moment, Donghyuck was transported back to the most terrifying day of his life. His grandmother’s body lay in the fields, her blood mixing with the water and soil. His brother screamed his name, fighting against arms that dragged him away as Donghyuck watched, helpless. 

But no, the ship now steaming slightly against the marshy ground wasn’t one of the sleek black Imperial cruisers that so often populated his nightmares; this vessel was much larger, more than double the length of Donghyuck’s small farmhouse. A cargo ship, he supposed, but that didn’t necessarily mean it was peaceful. Donghyuck shouldered his blaster rifle and approached warily, noting the blackened patches of the dingy silver paneling. Wherever this ship had come from, it seemed to have taken quite a beating.

That didn’t, however, mean that it or its passengers, were harmless. Donghyuck shouldered his blaster rifle, shook his rust-red curls out of his eyes, and lined up the sights as he carefully moved toward the ship, the marshy ground clinging to his boots with every step.

With a hiss of hydraulics, a hatch near the center of the ship opened. Donghyuck could just make out three humanoid figures standing in the entryway, each with their hands raised to show that they carried no weapons.

“We’re so sorry to have disturbed you,” the middle figure spoke as the end of the ramp splashed against the ground. Stepping forward until the light could illuminate his face, the stranger smiled appeasingly. “We mean you no harm. Our ship is in need of repairs, and we needed to land immediately."

Donghyuck did not lower the rifle. “Forgive me if I’m a bit wary of strangers,” he called, waving for the trio to step forward, examining each as they came into view: an orange-haired being with a peculiar grace to his movements, and a shorter figure who carried himself with a heavier gait than his slight figure would suggest. All three lacked the distinctive pointed ears of the Scralli, and Donghyuck’s distrust deepened. This area didn’t attract many offworlders. “Who are you and where did you come from?”

“My name is Jaemin Na, I am the captain of this ship,” the first stranger, presumably the leader, answered calmly, seemingly unphased by the blaster aimed at his chest. “This is Renjun,” he nodded to the shorter figure, “and Chenle.” The one with the orange hair waved cheerily. “We come from Earth, the only inhabited planet of the Solar system.”

“My galactical geography may be a bit fuzzy,” said Donghyuck, “but I’m pretty sure that’s a very long ways away--much farther than most Imperial travel regulations allow.”

The leader--Jaemin--showed the first signs of discomfort. “Well,” he said, shifting slightly from foot to foot, “if we didn’t bend a few Imperial rules here and there, we’d never have any fun, would we?”

Donghyuck stared at him for a long moment, then let the tip of his rifle dip. “That’s true enough,” he agreed, allowing himself a small smile that elicited an inaudible breath of relief from the strangers. He gestured at the smoking craters on the ship’s hull. “I take it the Empire doesn’t appreciate that line of thinking?”

“They did seem to disagree, yes,” spoke the shorter figure, Renjun, for the first time.

“Not the kind of people I would invite to a party,” agreed Chenle, his voice clear and chirping like the birdsong that rang across the marsh in the mornings. His eyes caught the light with an odd glasslike gleam, and Donghyuck realized he must be a companion droid. That would explain the perfectly-measured proportions and the lack of creases on his outstretched palms.

Gradually, Donghyuck allowed himself to relax. If these were undercover Empire operatives, they were doing a remarkable job. After conducting a quick energy scan with his portscreen and confirming that the visitors were indeed unarmed--at least, lacking any blaster technology--he finally lowered his rifle. 

“You’re welcome to make repairs to your ship here,” he told them, holding up his right hand and curling the first two fingers in customary Scralli greeting. Only Chenle managed to imitate the gesture.

“Thank you,” Jaemin grinned. “We’ll be out of your hair as soon as possible. Are there any good parts stores around here? And maybe a restaurant?”

Donghyuck’s lips twitched. “There’s a shop in town that should have everything you need, but my grandmother would turn in her grave if I let guests go hungry. Come inside, I’m a better cook than the layabouts that run the tavern anyway.”

He noticed Renjun cast a single furtive look back at the ship as the hatch closed behind them.

After so long living alone, having three people seated on the cushions around his low dining table was disconcerting, but not unwelcome. His guests set upon the simple meal with the fervor that only comes with weeks of living on nutrition packs.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had a proper meal,” Jaemin gushed through a mouthful of seasoned steamed grain. 

“You and your taste buds could be a bit more considerate,” huffed Chenle, who was the first android Donghyuck had ever met who seemed upset that his body didn’t require caloric intake.

“Sorry,” said Jaemin, not sounding apologetic in the least.

“I assume the parts store is closed by now,” Renjun speculated, glancing out the window to the darkening sky. He hadn’t removed his gloves, even to eat.

“Most likely,” Donghyuck confirmed. “You’ll have to go tomorrow. I’m afraid I don’t have much room for guests—”

“We don’t mind sleeping on the ship,” Renjun assured quickly. “Letting us land here is hospitality enough.”

“Well, technically I didn’t give you permission to land on my crops,” Donghyuck deadpanned. “You fell out of the sky first and asked questions later.”

Renjun bit his lip, obviously suppressing a laugh. “That’s true. In our defense, we were trying not to die.”

“That’s a very good excuse,” Donghyuck agreed, pushing his bowl away and settling his chin in his hand. “Now that we’re all fed and comfortable, do you mind telling me how exactly you got on the wrong side of the Empire?”

The three traded nervous glances, the light-hearted atmosphere stiffening. “Well,” said Jaemin eventually, “you might say that we’re… traders, of sorts.”

Donghyuck raised a brow. “Does that mean pirates or smugglers?”

“A little bit of both,” Chenle admitted.

“We recently picked up a particularly valuable piece of cargo,” said Renjun slowly, as if his words were a maze that needed to be navigated with care. “Something stolen from the Empire, and they want it back.”

“I see,” said Donghyuck, wondering what the cargo might be but sensing that the question would be unwelcome. “Well, hopefully they lost your trail.”

“I know the Empire isn’t exactly popular around here,” said Renjun, “but most people still wouldn’t go out of their way to help criminals. You’re putting yourself in a lot of danger by letting us stay here.”

“I know that,” Donghyuck folded his hands on the tabletop, squeezing until his knuckles turned white, “but the Empire took everything from me. When I’m given a chance to undermine them, no matter how insignificant, I take it.”

For the first time since Donghyuck had laid eyes on Jaemin, he looked completely serious. “I can understand that.”

  
  


Donghyuck slept fitfully that night, the room he used to share with his brother and grandmother feeling too large and empty. Vague flashes of his earliest memories danced behind his eyelids: explosions and blasterfire, the disastrous end to the lives of his parents and the underground group of rebels to which they belonged. When he was older, his mother had confided to him that the rebels, dedicated and passionate as they were, never posed a real threat to the Empire. They had been stomped out as a mere warning, to any others who might think of insurrection, that it was not to be tolerated.

_ “They think they’ve got us all under their thumb,” _ Donghyuck heard his grandmother scoff.

_ “They’re right, aren’t they?”  _ his brother had asked, always the realist.

_ “Listen to me, my darlings,” _ she had gathered them in her arms, although they had both nearly reached her height.  _ “The Empire may dictate where we can go and what we can do, but they can never tell us what to think. Freedom is in here,”  _ she tapped Donghyuck on the forehead,  _ “and in here,”  _ she laid her wrinkled, calloused hand on his brother’s chest, right above his heart.

Donghyuck woke with a start, clutching at his own chest where his heart beat erratically. The heart, where freedom could never be denied. The heart, where the blaster had struck his grandmother, when she had tried to stop them from splintering their family further than they already had.

He gazed up, through the skylight in his bedroom ceiling, at the moons gleaming in the sky. Crescents tonight, mere slivers of silver against the star-scattered backdrop. In his dream-addled state, he couldn’t help but think how much those crescents looked like his brother’s eyes when he laughed.

  
  


Despite his fatigue, Donghyuck was nearly finished with his morning chores by the time the cargo ship showed any signs of life. An airlock hissed open, on the opposite side from the hatch through which the crew had exited on the previous day, and a sleek white podship emerged, piloted by Chenle with Renjun visible in the copilot seat. Jaemin followed the ship on foot, punching in a code to close the hatch before greeting Donghyuck with a cheery wave. 

“They ran a full diagnostic on the damage last night,” he explained, “so we know what Renjun will need to make repairs. We should be out of your hair by tomorrow.”

“I take it Renjun is the ship’s mechanic, then?”

“Among other things,” Jaemin shrugged. “With such a small crew, we all have multiple roles.”

“I wonder if he’d be willing to take a look at one of my harvester droids,” Donghyuck mused, continuing toward the storage shed. Jaemin followed, picking his way along the wet soil with the air of a man who didn’t often get his boots muddy. “It’s been acting up lately, and I’ve never been much good with machines. My brother was always the one—” He cut off remembering how his brother had teased him for his ineptitude with technology.

“Is he dead?” Jaemin asked quietly. Donghyuck appreciated the bluntness; he hated when people referred to his family as  _ passed on  _ or  _ resting among the stars,  _ and the way Jaemin said it made Donghyuck suspect that he knew exactly how he felt about such condolences.

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck answered. “He was taken over 20 moons ago.”

Jaemin tilted his head, then unhooked his portscreen from his belt and hastily typed in a search. “About 18 earth months,” he muttered to himself, replacing the portscreen. “And you haven’t heard anything in all that time?”

“Nothing.” He fiddled with the ends of his red cloak, needing some way to expel the helplessness he felt whenever he thought of his brother.

“When my brother, Jaehyun, was conscripted,” Jaemin said, “I hoped every day for a comm from him, to know that he was alright. But the only comm we ever got was to tell us that he was dead.”

Donghyuck froze with his hand on the toolshed keypad.

“I don’t mean to give you false hope,” Jaemin amended quickly. “That would be—”

“Cruel, yes,” Donghyuck agreed. “I know he’s probably dead, and if he isn’t then he’s been turned into a slave or a soldier or a science experiment.” He sighed, punching in the code and pushing the door open. “Thank you for telling me about your brother, though.”

“And your brother, what was his name?”

Donghyuck’s throat worked for a moment in silence. It had been so long since he had spoken the name aloud, his lips almost didn’t remember how to form the sounds. “Jeno. His name was Jeno.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 10k in and the main plot is nowhere in view... but oh i am so excited for what's to come >:) if you have any thoughts or predictions, please leave them in the comments! and as always, feel free to come yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/see_thevision), [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/riahsvision/), [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/see_thevision)


	8. Renjun

Renjun should have expected that a pristine white podship piloted by two offworlders would draw attention in a small farming town. He self-consciously tugged the hem of his glove up higher on his wrist as he pulled up the map on his retina display, hopping out of the pod and trying to ignore the interested attention he attracted as he headed for the parts shop, Chenle in tow.

“Stop looking so guilty,” Chenle murmured, shoulders back and a graceful bounce in his step as though he belonged in this town just as much as any of the natives. “Someone might think we’re up to something.”

Renjun tried to mimic the attitude, but he was glad for the shelter of the rows of shelves stacked with machinery and tools. He and Chenle scoured the haphazard aisles, checking items off the list scrolling across Renjun’s retina display. Although they kept a full range of tools and a few spare parts aboard the Fantasm, the damage the truster had taken was beyond the capacity of their meager supplies to repair. Thankfully, they managed to find everything they needed despite the relative rurality of the area. A farming community, he supposed, must be host to a number of cargo ships to transport crops to different areas of the planet, or even for export to neighboring star systems—although few citizens of the Empire could afford such frivolity. He doubted any of the people in this town had tasted any food not grown in their own soil.

The payment droid’s scanner flashed as it took stock of their purchases. “16,000 credits,” it beeped in a perfect monotone. Holding his breath, Renjun held up his wrist, where an ID chip was hidden, not beneath a layer of flesh as it ought to be, but embedded in a simple wristband. The scanner read the ID, then beeped again. “Payment approved. Thank you for your patronage.”

Renjun tried to hide his relief. Jaemin insisted that his source for fake ID chips was trustworthy and reliable, but Renjun couldn’t help but feel it was only a matter of time before their fraudulent accounts were discovered and used to trace their location. He wondered how long their luck would hold. His breath barely eased until they returned to the podship, away from prying eyes. 

“Good thing we were able to find this all in one place,” remarked Chenle, placing the last of their purchases in the back of the pod and closing the hatch before climbing into the pilot’s seat. “You look like a real shopping trip might finish you off.”

“I just don’t like being out in the open like that,” grumbled Renjun. “Imperial spies could be anywhere.”

“A small farming community on a random planet in a relatively peaceful sector? I find that statistically unlikely.”

Renjun knew the chances were astronomical; the cyborg part of his brain helpfully fed the estimated probability ratio to him without prompting. The human part of his brain, on the other hand, couldn’t help a tingle of paranoia whenever anyone glanced their way for a moment too long—a side effect of being on the run for so long. He’d had a target on his head from the minute he was born, so he figured he was well within his rights to have his tranquilizer darts loaded in his pointer finger just in case.

The return flight to the farm passed without incident, and soon Chenle was maneuvering the podship back into its dock. Renjun made sure the connection to the charging cable was secure, then began unloading his supplies onto a maglev cart. 

“Do you need help?” Chenle asked, but his reluctance was clear. Renjun waved him off with a grin.

“I’ll take you up on that offer later,” he said, “when I start on the thruster, but the automagnetic stabilizers can be reconfigured from the engine room now that everything's powered down. I can handle it, you go have fun.”

“Will do,” Chenle beamed, offering a salute before bouncing toward the main hatch. Although Renjun couldn’t imagine that a farm would offer much to interest an android, he understood the desire to be off the ship. It had been weeks since their last landing, and the novelty of fresh air and natural plantlife was enticing. Turning away from the swath of sunlight spilling in through the open hatch, Renjun pushed his maglev cart toward the engine room. 

The hum of machinery immediately began to soothe Renjun’s frazzled nerves, filling his audio interface with familiar sounds. It eased his mind to know that he understood what each one meant—the soft gurgle of the water filtration system, the whir of the generator, the murmur of the life support system, on the lowest setting now that they were within an oxygenated atmosphere rather than the vacuum of space. He overlaid the blueprint of the proper alignment of the automagnetic thruster over his vision and began to work, losing himself in the world of tools and wires. Machines. Mechanics. This, at least, he understood. In this small room, out of the vastness of the galaxy, Renjun was in full control.

“Hello?”

Renjun nearly crushed his non-metal thumb with a wrench. “Stars, Mark, don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Sorry,” Mark ducked his head, absently rubbing at the back of his head, making his hair stick up. “I didn’t mean to startle you, I was just wondering what you were doing.”

“It’s alright,” Renjun said, his retina display informing him as his heart rate returned to normal. “I’m just realigning the stabilizers. Not very exciting.”

“More exciting than staring at the ceiling in my cabin,” Mark replied, leaning closer to peer into the inner workings laid bare by the panel Renjun had removed from the console. Renjun’s optobionics picked up on a dark spot on his cheek, a freckle or mole, and he found his gaze roving over his face in search of any other details he had missed. 

“Sorry you’ve got to stay cooped in here while we all enjoy being planetside,” Renjun said, dragging his attention back to the array. He tugged with the wrench, making a slight adjustment to the angle of one mechanism. “Donghyuck seems nice enough, but I get the feeling that if he recognized you, he’d shoot first and ask questions later.”

“Not a fan of the Empire?” Mark attempted a sardonic smile, but it fell flat.

“I hate to break it to you, but not many are.” He lowered his head under the guise of rummaging for a pair of fuse pullers. “They killed his family.”

Mark’s sharp intake of breath didn’t surprise him. Contrary to any expectations Renjun might have had, the second prince of the Empire had proved to be empathetic and attentive. His distaste for the government and family he was born to was clear in both his words and actions. He might not have believed it save for the lie detector built into his programming, but everything Mark had told them was genuine. Renjun didn't trust much, but he trusted his own brain-machine interface.

"Anyway," Renjun continued, inspecting his work and checking it against the blueprint, "I should be able to finish the repairs by the end of the day, and then we'll leave. Donghyuck doesn't have to know you've ever set foot on his planet."

"Technically I haven't," Mark pointed out with a smile that left Renjun momentarily dazzled. 

"True," he assented, allowing himself to return the smile. "It'll be a relief to be as far away from this system as we can get, but I admit I'll miss the fresh air and real food."

Mark groaned with longing, slumping against the wall. "Yes yes, you've all been enjoying Scralli cuisine, you don't have to rub it in."

"You're starting to sound like Chenle," Renjun laughed, tucking his tools away and heading for the main hatch, replacing the stabilizer blueprint with a diagram of the thruster, already running a mental checklist of repairs. 

Maybe he'd be able to smuggle some food away from the table at their next meal. Mark could use a break from nutrition packs.

  
  


It took the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon to repair the damaged thruster and weld the worst of the hull damage, but by the time the sun began to sink toward the horizon, Renjun surveyed their work with a satisfied sigh. “That should do it,” he announced, packing away his tools and checking his gloves to make sure the metal plating of his left hand was still hidden.

“Finally,” Chenle groaned, bouncing to his feet. He, unlike Renjun, was free of sweat and stiff muscles, but a fair amount of grease splattered his synthetic skin. If even Chenle hadn’t made it out of this repair unscathed, Renjun shuddered to think how filthy _he_ probably was.

“I’m going to get cleaned up,” he said, pushing his damp hair away from his sweaty face, probably spreading a fair amount of grime from his gloves to the strands. Chenle hummed in agreement and followed Renjun through the main hatch. 

To conserve water, all showers aboard the Fantasm were timed, so Renjun wasted no time sloughing the grit and grease from his skin and plating. The process of drying was much longer as he painstakingly worked a cloth over the joints of his left fingers, wrist, knee, ankle, and toes. By the time he was dressed, the stars had begun to appear in the patch of sky visible through the porthole.

Had he been watching through a window on the other side of the ship, Renjun would have seen the descent of a sleek black vessel that settled with the stealth of a whisper on the marshy ground. As it was, his first warning was Donghyuck’s scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok this chapter was kinda filler BUT the next one will make up for it promise!  
> who's your favorite of the characters so far? any guesses on who they'll meet next?


End file.
